A Million Pieces
by cmaddict
Summary: Casey Novak meets a good-looking guy in a bar and is instantly attracted to him. But he's definitely not what he seems, and she is soon caught in a web of organized crime, deception, and murder. Casey-centric, Casey/OC.
1. Chapter 1

**A/N: So... my first venture into SVU territory. I hope you guys like it. It's a little different than anything I've written before, since I haven't written with an original character as one of the main characters. And I've never written in dialect before. I tried to stay as in character as best I could. This is, of course, Casey-centric, since she kicks butt, but the other characters will have a role in the story. As always, constructive criticism is greatly appreciated... as are reviews.**

**Disclaimer: I don't own Casey Novak or any other characters you recognize from the show. I just own the plotline, Jack O'Brian, and any other characters that aren't familiar.**

**Chapter 1**

**Mulroney's Bar  
****425 W. 34****th**** Street**

A blast of loud music hit Jack O'Brian full-force in the chest as he walked into the bar. He waved at a couple of his guys in the corner, who were trying unsuccessfully to pick up a girl by the pool tables. They would do just about anything for him—literally anything. It had taken him years to work his way up in their organization, and he was proud of it. Proud of the way they trusted him.

He sauntered over to the bar and slid onto one of the stools. He shot a quick grin at the bartender, who slid him a glass of Guinness's best. Jack smiled at him gratefully and lifted his glass to his lips.

Out of the corner of his eye he caught a large, muscular shape slide into the seat next to him. "Whiskey, on the rocks," a deep, bass voice rumbled in his ear.

"Took ya long enough," Jack said as he sipped his beer.

"You know how traffic is this time a' day," the man said, his soft Irish brogue evident, and he sipped his own drink. He set the glass down and faced Jack, a grin spreading across his face. "So, boyo… what did'ya have to talk to me about?"

Jack swiveled in his chair. "Did you have to get the kid, too, Connor?"

Connor furrowed his brow, and a dangerous look appeared in his eyes. "And just who are you to be questionin' my methods?"

"It's dangerous, Connor. The cops don't like it when kids are the victims."

"And just how did ya come about this bit o' information?"

"Let's just say I have my sources." Jack narrowed his blue eyes. "I hope you made damn sure it wasn't traceable back to us."

Connor narrowed his own blue eyes. He downed his whiskey, grabbed his coat off the back of the chair, and stepped close to Jack. "I'd worry about meself, lad. Especially once Sullivan finds out you talked to me about this. In public."

Jack chuckled. "See, that's where you're wrong, Connor. Sullivan trusts me implicitly. You know that, and I know that. You're good, but you're expendable." He sipped his beer. "I'm not."

Connor chuckled too. "See, that's where you're wrong, boyo. _Everyone_ is expendable." He tossed a couple of dollars onto the bar and disappeared out the door.

Jack hated to admit it, but he was right. Despite all his hard work, in this line of business, everyone was expendable. Sullivan wouldn't think twice about ousting someone that could cause him collateral damage. He pushed a strand of brown hair out of his eyes. Some days he didn't even recognize his own reflection. He had changed so much in the past three years.

That was when he saw her.

She seated herself at the end of the bar, pushing back a stray reddish-blonde lock from her pretty face. Jack heard her order a beer, and he grinned to himself. A girl with taste. Rare these days. He swiveled his chair around so he could study her more closely. She was dressed in a classy business suit; a green blouse that brought out the color of her eyes with a jacket that showed off her slim figure. Her hair was pinned back in a bun behind her head, at the nape of her neck. Her face was tired, as if she'd labored over something incredibly difficult and taxing.

In that moment, Jack decided that she must have been the prettiest girl he'd ever seen. He motioned toward the bartender to lean down and talk quietly with him. "Who's the girl?" he asked in a quiet voice.

The bartender jerked his head toward the girl at the end of the counter. "Her?" At Jack's affirming nod, he grinned. "You've got good taste, son. She comes in here every once in a while. Don't know exactly who she is, but she always sits down there, and she always orders one glass of beer before leaving."

Jack nodded his thanks, and the bartender moved to the other end. He chugged the last quarter of the glass and stood. A small smile graced his face as he saw the girl look over at him. Gaining confidence by the second, he stepped over to her and smiled at her with the most charming smile he could muster. "Hello," he said.

She looked up at him and smiled back. "Hello," she replied.

"Anyone sitting here?" He motioned toward the barstool next to her.

She shook her head, another red strand of hair falling into her face. "Please, sit." As Jack sat down next to her, she put out her hand for him to shake. "Casey Novak."

Jack smiled and took the proffered hand. "Jack O'Brian. It's a pleasure to meet you, Casey."

Casey smiled at him. It had been a while since a guy had tried to pick her up in a bar. She knew enough from her job to not actually go with him, but he was good-looking and seemed charming. "So, Jack," she said smoothly, sipping her beer. "Come here often?"

He laughed. "Yeah, I do." He gestured toward the opposite wall of the bar. "I live not far from here. I hear you come here every once in a while."

She chuckled. "You've been asking about me."

"Well, when a guy sees a pretty girl alone in a bar, he gets a little curious."

"Well, when a girl sees a fairly good-looking guy alone a bar, she wants to know exactly what his intentions are when he comes over to hit on her."

Jack held up his hands in mock surrender. "No bad intentions. I just wanted to get to know you a little better."

"But you admit you're hitting on me."

He cocked an eyebrow at her and grinned. "Maybe."

Casey laughed. "At least you're honest."

"I try."

She took another sip of her beer and turned to face Jack. "So, Jack, what exactly do you do for a living?"

His smile faltered for a second, but in the blink of an eye it was back on his face. "I'm in security."

"For a company?"

"No, private security." Jack didn't like where this line of questioning was going. This was a classy lady, and he certainly didn't want her knowing exactly what it was that he did. "And what about you? You seem intelligent, classy, sophisticated…"

Casey laughed again. "I doubt my parents would agree with the last two, especially when they see me covered in dirt from softball games. I'm a lawyer." She was careful not to tell people exactly what she did. It wasn't that she wasn't proud of the scum she put in prison, but guys were sometimes turned off by her line of work on the first meeting.

"A lawyer?" Jack grinned. "Seems to me I've heard more than one joke about lawyers…"

She held up a hand to stop him. "Save it. I've heard 'em all."

"I believe you."

A shrill ring sounded through the bar, and Casey groaned. She pulled out her phone and checked the caller I.D. "Duty calls," she said apologetically as she flipped it open. "Novak… yeah… okay, I'll be there." She slipped the phone back into her purse and shot a rueful smile at Jack.

He held up a hand. "I know. You have to go." He shrugged his muscular shoulders.

"Yeah. I'm sorry."

Jack shook his head and smiled. "It's no big deal. Besides, you'll come back again sometime, right?"

Casey stood and grabbed a couple of dollars out of her purse. "If you're here, I just might consider it." She made a move to throw the money on the bar, but Jack placed his hand on her arm.

"I'll take care of it. You go save the world." He grinned at her, and Casey returned his grin before she turned on her heel and disappeared out the door.

* * *

Casey couldn't seem to stop smiling as she drove toward the Lower East Side. She couldn't help thinking how sad it was that she was happy some random guy was hitting on her in a bar, but she was happy about it nonetheless. She had to remind herself to stay aloof for a while, at least until she could figure him out. She'd seen plenty of good-looking, charming guys just like him that turned out to be rapists or serial killers. If this job had taught her anything, it was to be cautious.

But even in being cautious, she couldn't ignore the fact that her skin still tingled from his touch.

She pulled up behind a couple of marked police cars, their red and blue lights dancing off her windshield in a fantastic light display. She quickly exited the car, slamming the door behind her, and made her way toward the yellow tape marking the crime scene. Finally she spotted a pair of familiar faces making their way toward her. "So you actually call me out to crime scenes, now, huh?"

Detective Elliot Stabler shot her a quick grin. "Well, we figured you're gonna show up anyway. Might as well beat you to the punch."

Casey rolled her eyes at him as his partner, Detective Olivia Benson, lifted the tape to let their ADA slip under. "Cute, Detective. Really cute."

He grinned and turned on his heel, leading the two women toward the mass of uniformed officers and CSU techs about a hundred yards away, in the middle of a small garden. Casey didn't even notice Olivia quietly catch up to her and match her pace. "So," Olivia started quietly, her voice making Casey jump. "You must have had a good night."

The younger woman glanced at her friend, startled. "What makes you say that?"

Olivia laughed. "Case, I'm a woman. I know these things." She prodded her friend with her elbow. "So, who's the guy?"

Casey sighed. "I don't know."

"Well, he sure made an impression on you. Where'd you meet him?"

"At a bar."

"And?"

"And nothing." Casey stopped, and Olivia stopped with her. "Liv, he was a nice guy, and we'll just have to see."

Olivia shook her head and smiled at Casey. "Okay, okay. But if something goes down…"

"You'll be the first to know." Casey grinned at her and put her hand on Olivia's arm. "I promise."

"Excuse me, ladies." They turned to see Elliot standing a few yard off, arms folded in front of him. "I don't know about you two, but I'd really like to do my job."

They rolled their eyes simultaneously and joined him. Casey's smile quickly disappeared as she saw the three bodies lying twisted and very dead on the cold ground. "Oh, God," she whispered. "Not another one."

The crime scene was horrifically familiar to the detectives and prosecutor. The bodies were covered in blood. Olivia bent down next to the smallest body—a little boy. "I hate it when kids are involved."

"You and me both," Elliot added. He walked around Olivia to stand next to Casey. "Warner says COD is a single stab wound to the chest. And the woman was raped." He picked up a wallet lying next to the dead man. "Michael Callahan. Lives in Yonkers."

"Just like the Harris case." Casey sighed. "You know what this means."

Olivia stood up and crossed her arms in front of her. "We've got the wrong guy in jail."

"And I'll have to let him go." Casey shook her head. "I hate it when we're wrong."

"Detectives!" A CSU tech rushed up to them, holding a plastic bag in his hand. "Found this about twenty yards from the body." He handed the bag to Elliot.

Elliot held the bag up to the light emanating from the street lamp nearby. "It's a coin. Definitely not U.S. mint. There's something written on it."

Olivia reached out for the bag, and Elliot handed it over. She squinted to read the tiny print. "_Eire_."

"It's an Irish farthing," Casey piped up. "I visited Ireland when I was in college."

"What's an Irish coin doing next to the body?" Elliot asked, his brow furrowed.

Suddenly Casey's mouth dropped open and her eyes widened. "I remember a case like this. I read about it in the paper. A family was murdered in Boston in the same exact way, single stab wound to the chest." She looked Elliot in the eye. "This wasn't random. This was a hit."

**So... you guys interested? Hit that little button!**


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N**: Wow, thank you so much for the reviews for the last chapter! I was persuaded to update a little faster this time. If you add some more reviews, I might be persuaded to update again before I leave for five days on Wednesday (hint, hint). As always, leave me a little lovin' at the end of this chapter, let me know if ya'll are still interested. By the way, the addresses in this fic are made up... I live in Texas, and I have no idea if they're real places or not.

* * *

**Chapter 2**

**Precinct 16**

Back at the 1-6, Casey allowed herself to sink onto Olivia's desk. She'd been up for nearly eighteen hours, and the alcohol she'd had at the bar wasn't helping her exhaustion. She didn't even want to think about Jack. She couldn't afford to be distracted at this point.

Elliot hung up his phone and leaned back in his chair. "Boston P.D. is sending down the file on their case. It'll be here in the morning."

Across the squad room, Detective John Munch hung up his own phone. "Warner just confirmed COD. Single stab wound to the chest punctured the aorta, probably with a six-inch serrated blade. Rape kit came back positive for spermicide but not for semen. Also confirmed time of death at around six tonight."

Casey nodded. "So he definitely knew what he was doing. Used a condom."

A chair scratched across the floor as Munch pushed it back to walk over to their case board. In three swift motions, he tacked pictures of three very familiar victims on the board. "The Harrises," he said, stepping back and crossing his arms. "Three months ago they were murdered in Central Park. We arrested this man—" he pointed to another photo on the board—"But obviously he didn't do it."

Detective Odafin "Fin" Tutuola leaned back in his own chair. "The M.O. was the exact same in the Harris case, down to the single stab wound in the chest and lack of sperm in the rape kit. An Irish coin was also found at the scene."

Olivia swiftly tacked up three more pictures on the board next to the photos of the Harrises. "Michael Callahan, Jane Doe—presumably his wife—and John Doe, Jr., presumably his son. Address on the license is in Yonkers."

"Great," Elliot said, grabbing his jacket from the back of his chair. "Let's hit it."

"You go ahead, El," Olivia said, staring at Casey, who was sitting on Olivia's desk with her head in her hands. "I'm gonna take Casey home."

That got her attention. "Liv, I swear I'm okay," Casey protested. But her body betrayed her with a yawn.

"You're not okay." Olivia grabbed her friend's arm for emphasis. "You've got court in the morning, and you need to get rest."

Casey slid off the desk, grumbling about how she was fine and didn't need to go home. Olivia grabbed her coat off her chair and turned to Elliot. "I'll meet you there."

Twenty minutes later, Olivia glanced over at the younger woman in the passenger seat of her car. Casey's head was resting against the headrest, and her eyes were closed as if she was sleeping. "So," Olivia said, breaking the silence of the car. She knew Casey enough to know she really wasn't asleep.

Her gut feeling was confirmed when Casey let out a soft "Hmmm?"

"Tell me more about this mystery guy."

Casey groaned again. "So this is why you volunteered to take me home, huh?"

"I'm a detective. I'm naturally curious."

"Bull." Casey opened one green eye to stare at Olivia. "What do you wanna know?"

"What's he like? What's his name?"

The red-head sighed wistfully and looked out the window as the building lights sped by. "His name is Jack."

Olivia nodded. "Good Irish name."

Casey chuckled. "He's definitely Irish. Brown hair, blue eyes, mid-thirties…"

"Very nice. I'm guessing he's cute?" Olivia raised her eyebrows at her friend, who laughed.

"Yeah. Definitely cute." Casey sighed again. "I'm attracted to him, Liv, but…"

"The job."

"Yeah. We see so many attractive men that turn out to be scumbags."

Olivia sighed as she pulled up next to Casey's apartment building. "Just be careful, Case. I don't want to see you get hurt."

Casey shot her a grateful smile. "I know." She opened the passenger door, grabbed her briefcase, and slid out of the car. "Thanks for the ride. And the talk. Call me tomorrow and update me."

"Will do." Olivia returned her smile before Casey shut the door and walked toward her building. She watched the young attorney unlock the door and disappear into the building before she drove away.

* * *

**802 W. 37****th**** Street  
Apartment of Jack O'Brian**

When Jack opened the door to his apartment three blocks from the bar, he definitely didn't expect it to be unlocked. And he certainly didn't expect to see his boss, Philip Sullivan, making himself at home on his couch.

Sullivan grinned at Jack's surprised expression. "Don't look so surprised, boyo," he said quietly with a barely-there Irish accent.

Jack closed the door behind him and leaned against it, his arms crossed in front of his muscular chest. "My boss shows up in the middle of the night, in my apartment that is supposed to be locked, and I'm not supposed to be surprised?"

A deep laugh rumbled through the older man's chest. "Good to know you've still got your sense of humor, Jack." He stood and stretched his back. "Got anything good in those cabinets?"

He let a slow smile spread across his face, and he crossed the living room to the kitchen. "Beer. Is that okay?"

"It's always okay with me."

Jack pulled a bottle from the refrigerator and handed it to Sullivan, along with a bottle opener. Sullivan flipped the cap off the bottle and took a long swig. Jack bit his lip as his boss drank, his mind whirling. "So," he began, running his hand through his hair. "How exactly did you get in?"

"Me da taught me many things when I was a lad," Sullivan replied as he leaned on the counter.

"And one of them was how to pick locks," Jack finished. He shook his head and flopped onto the couch. "I don't suppose you're going to tell me why you're here?"

"Now, you don't want to be gettin' into that now, do you?" Sullivan took one look at Jack's stone-cold face and sighed. "I heard you talked to Connor this evening."

"He complained to you about me?" Jack asked incredulously.

"You talked to him in public, Jack."

"No details were actually discussed."

"And what happens when the cops come lookin' around, askin' questions?" Sullivan set his bottle on the counter, his dark eyes flashing. "What then, huh?"

"It was in the middle of a bar! No one's actually paying attention, Phil." Jack leaned forward and put his elbows on his knees. "But that's not really what he complained about, was it?"

Sullivan smiled and hopped onto the counter. He leaned forward slightly. "Sometimes, Jack, I think you're too smart for your own good."

"Phil, he did the kid! You know as well as I do that when a kid's involved, for the cops it's personal. I just wanted to make sure they couldn't trace it back to us."

"Connor's as sharp as they come. He's good."

"I don't doubt that, but as your security guy, it's my job to make sure you're protected."

"It's nice to know you care so much, lad." Sullivan shot him a quick grin, and Jack had to chuckle. "Don't ya go worryin' your little head about me, boyo. I know you've got my ass. And I know that if the time comes, you'll take the heat. Right?"

The question caught Jack off guard, and he couldn't help but show it. But he recovered quickly. "Absolutely," he said with as much conviction as he could muster.

Sullivan smiled and spread his hands. "That's all I wanted to know." He gulped down the rest of his beer and hopped off the cabinet. "It's late. Get some shut-eye." Jack made a move to get up, but Sullivan stopped him with a wave of his hand. "No need. I'll show meself out."

As the door slammed behind his boss, Jack finally let himself relax. His head hit the back of the couch as he sighed. He had to play the next few days very carefully. Particularly if he ever wanted to stay alive long enough to see Casey again.

* * *

**730 Brook Street  
Yonkers, NY**

Olivia parked her car right behind Elliot's when she pulled up to the brownstone in Yonkers. In the deepening night, she could make out Elliot's silhouette next to the door. He glanced up as she got out of her car. "Hey," he called out.

"Hey yourself." She quickly joined them on the Callahans' front stoop. "Find out anything?"

"Haven't gone in. I was waiting for you. But I did talk to the neighbor. He identified the vics as Michael Callahan, his wife Rachel, and his son James."

"I don't suppose he mentioned any trouble?"

Elliot shook his head. "No. But I'm hoping we'll find something in the house." He took out the keys that the M.E. had gotten from the body and unlocked the front door. He turned left into what looked like a living room, while Olivia continued down the hall.

"Hey, Elliot?"

He exited the living room and continued down the hall until he came to what looked like a study. Olivia held up a piece of paper. "Bank statement. They were in the red. So was their home-run business."

"Awfully nice house for being over ten thousand dollars in debt." Elliot skimmed the statement. "Maybe we should take a look at where all that money went."

"Found something else." She held up a newspaper clipping. "It's an article on the Harris case."

"How would they be connected to the Harrises?"

"Yonkers isn't that big. Maybe they knew each other somehow."

Elliot furrowed his brow. "You know, if I remember right, the Harrises were in the red too. And they had their own business."

Olivia straightened and narrowed her eyes in thought. "About ten thousand dollars in debt. But there wasn't anything suspicious."

"How much you wanna bet that they were both involved in something a little more illegal than just running their own business?"

* * *

**A/N**: So... are ya'll still interested? Or should I just delete the whole thing and pretend like I never wrote it? Review please!


	3. Chapter 3

**A/N:** Thanks again for all those that reviewed the last chapter, especially CNovak929, who never fails to review! I greatly appreciate you. Anyway, CNovak929, here's an extra-long update for you, since we're both leaving soon. I had this next part in 2 chapters, but I decided to combine them. It might make more sense that way.

* * *

**Chapter 3**

Casey walked into a metaphorical beehive of activity the next morning at the 1-6. Everyone, uniforms and detectives alike, dashed around the room, hustling to get the necessary info.

Elliot spotted her and waved her over. "Good morning, Counselor," he greeted her with a smile. "How'd you get here anyway?"

"Rode my bike in. Anything new on the Callahan case?"

"We're running some suspicious banking activity from both the Callahans and the Harrises."

"They're over ten thousand dollars in the red," Olivia piped up from her desk. "But there's nothing on their credit cards to indicate they've been using it there."

"And if it's not done on a legal basis, it has to be illegal," Casey finished. "Who did Boston like for the murders up there?"

"A guy named Connor Miller." Munch stood and tacked another picture on the board. "Legally immigrated to Boston from Dublin three years ago. A friend of mine in Boston investigated the case. He said Miller was involved in some suspicious activities up there, but they couldn't grab him. Apparently Miller's got some buddies in Ireland that prefer to do their political activities with bombs and guns."

"So he's IRA?" Casey asked, raising an eyebrow. "What's he doing in the States?"

Fin huffed. "Said he was coming here to start a new life. Like most people in America."

"Any idea on his whereabouts now?"

"We're running his name through Amtrak records and airline tickets." Elliot shrugged. "We just have to wait for the bureaucracy to come through for us."

Casey glanced at her watch. "Damn," she muttered. "I have to be in court in an hour. Gotta let Willis go for the Harris murders with the District Attorney's sincerest apologies." She pointed toward Olivia. "Keep me updated?"

Olivia nodded and grinned. "Keep me updated too." She chuckled at Casey's passing glare. "We'll call you when we come up with anything."

As Casey disappeared around the corner, Elliot cocked an eyebrow at his partner. "Keep you updated? About what?"

"Girl talk, El." She patted him on the shoulder and sat in her chair. "Okay, it'll take us a while for Amtrak and the airlines to get back to us."

"Maybe we should canvass the neighborhood, see if anyone saw anything," Elliot said with a shrug. "We might get an idea of what they were up to."

"Good idea," Captain Don Cragen said as he finally made an appearance in the bull pen. "And while you're at it, talk to the FBI. They might have an idea of who Miller's working for."

Munch sighed and stood. "We'll take the boys in black."

* * *

**FBI Field Office  
26 Federal Plaza**

"Please, come in," Agent Andrew Russell motioned toward a couple of chairs in front of his desk. "I'm happy to help the NYPD."

"Attempting to show full cooperation, Agent Russell?" Munch asked, his typical sardonic tone undisguised in his voice as he took his seat next to Fin.

"Of course." Agent Russell sat down in his chair and folded his hands on his desktop. "Now, what can I do to help you, Detective?"

Fin pulled out a picture of Miller from his jacket pocket. "We're trying to find this man in connection with a triple homicide on the Lower East Side last night."

Russell reached out and took the photo from Fin. "Connor Miller." Russell shook his head. "I heard about those murders last night. What's the evidence?"

"An Irish farthing was found next to the bodies," Munch replied. "It's eerily similar to a case in Boston we heard about."

Russell nodded. "I've seen the case file. So you know Boston liked him for the last murders?"

Fin nodded. "So we've heard. That's why we're interested."

"We understand he has connections," Munch added.

"I can tell you right now he's got connections to organized crime here in the States." Russell leaned back in his chair slightly, the leather squeaking under the shift in weight distribution. "We've been after Miller for years in connection with three similar murders with similar calling cards across the country, but we haven't found enough evidence to hold him."

"Is he here in New York?"

Russell nodded again. "Absolutely. One of my sources says he arrived in town about a week before your murders occurred."

"Any chance that the Callahans were involved in organized crime?" Fin asked.

"If they were, they were fairly low-level," Russell replied with a shrug. "My guy hasn't said anything about them. But I haven't been in contact with him in the last couple of days."

"Any chance we could get in contact with your guy?" Munch raised his eyebrows as Russell shook his head.

"Not without endangering his life and the operation. He's deep undercover. Has been for the last three years. If you can trace this case back to Miller without using him, you might break my case wide open for me."

"If the Callahans were so low-level, why would they order a hit on them?" Fin asked.

Russell shrugged again. "Could be that they were withholding from the boss. If they were involved, you'll find funds undisclosed to the IRS, money that seems to disappear into supposedly legal businesses. If you want I can give you a list of the business we've been looking at under RICO."

Munch nodded. "Anything you can do to help."

* * *

**16****th**** Precinct**

"Well, welcome back," Munch said, glancing up as Olivia and Elliot walked through the bull pen to their desks. "Any luck?"

Olivia sighed. "No. No one would talk to us."

"You should have seen the looks in their eyes," Elliot said, nursing his cup of coffee. "They're scared to death of someone out there."

"Most of them freaked out when we even got close to them." Olivia checked her watch. "I need to call Casey. She should be out of court by now." She pulled out her cell phone and disappeared down the hall.

"Well, while the two of you were taking a nice stroll through Yonkers, Fin and I talked to the FBI about our favorite terrorist," Munch said, leaning back in his chair.

Elliot's eyebrows went up. "Oh? What did they say?"

"Miller is definitely in town. They've been watching him for connections to organized crime. They've got a guy that's deep undercover, gathering evidence for a federal case."

"The Irish mob?" Elliot looked skeptical.

"The Italians have a mafia, the Russians have a mafia; why not the Irish?" Fin asked. "The FBI gave us a list of companies they've been looking at under the RICO Act. Some of them are traceable back to this guy." He tacked up another picture next to Miller's.

Elliot stared at the picture. "Philip Sullivan?"

"Father emigrated here from Ireland back in the '50's. He's managed to stay under the radar, since no suspicious companies are directly linked to him. However, he does sit on the boards of three of the companies on the FBI's list."

"Any of them have links to our vics?"

"Just one." Munch handed Elliot a slip of paper. "The McHale Company. They advertise special help for families of direct Irish descent in getting jobs. Sullivan is the president and CEO of the company."

"How do the Callahans and Harrises fit in with this?"

"Both of them put ten thousand dollars each into the company about two years ago. The bank provided us with copies of their checks." Munch tacked up two more pieces of paper onto the board. "They wrote them within five days of each other. The forensic accountants say it's definitely suspicious."

Elliot raised his eyebrows. "I'd be inclined to agree." He was interrupted by the shrill ringing of his desk phone. He quickly picked it up. "Special Victims, Stabler." He listened for a moment. "Okay, we'll be right down." His eyebrows went up as he replaced the phone. "That was the forensics lab. They lifted a partial off the coin. Guess who it belongs to."

Munch raised his hand. "I know. Connor Miller."

"Bingo."

"Now if we could just find the guy."

Elliot checked his watch. "Well, it's after eight p.m. Liv and I will stop by the McHale company tomorrow morning first thing. Let's see if we can get some straight answers from this Sullivan guy."

* * *

Casey pedaled her bike down the sidewalk on her way to Mulroney's Bar. All day long, her mind had been on Jack. During court, while she was writing briefs in her office, while she was filing motions… she couldn't get the man out of her mind. Casey Novak wasn't one to fall easily, and these feelings she'd been having scared her.

Her private thoughts were interrupted by the incessant chirping of her cell phone. She skillfully controlled the bike with one hand and reached into her pocket for the other. She couldn't resist a roll of her eyes when she saw the caller I.D. _Olivia Benson_. In one swift motion, she flipped the phone open. "Novak," she said into the microphone.

"Hey Casey."

"Hey. Anything new?"

"Munch and Fin talked to the Feds. The Callahans and the Harrises were putting about ten thousand dollars into a company on their watch-list."

"Let me guess. The ten thousand dollars weren't reported to the IRS."

"You got it. The company belongs to a guy named Philip Sullivan. Me and Elliot are heading there in the morning."

"Who's that?"

"He stays under the radar, so he's never been convicted of any charge. One more thing. Forensics lifted a print off the coin."

"Connor Miller?"

"Yep."

A grin spread over Casey's face. "We got him."

"Yeah, now all we have to do is find him."

"Maybe we can flip this Sullivan guy."

"Doubt it. Something tells me he didn't get on the FBI's watch-list by being stupid."

"Well, you get me the evidence, I'll get you a conviction."

"Always. So," Olivia said, a slightly teasing tone creeping into her voice. "Where are you?"

Casey rolled her eyes. "Going for a drink."

"Really? Mind if I tag along?"

Casey chuckled. "In your dreams, Benson."

"I'd better hear if something happens."

"Believe me, Liv, if anything happens…"

"I'll be the first to know. I know."

Up ahead, Casey saw the neon sign of Mulroney's. "Hey I gotta go."

"Call me later."

Casey rolled her eyes again as she braked to a stop. "Good night, Detective." With that, she flipped her phone shut and dismounted from her bike. She opened the door to the bar and quickly scanned the room until her eyes fell on a lone figure at the end of the bar. A smile unconsciously spread across her face, and she wound her way around the other patrons at the bar and pool tables.

As she approached him, Jack finally looked up and cracked a huge smile. "Didn't think you'd actually come back," he said as she placed her briefcase on a chair and slid into the chair next to him.

"Let's just say you piqued my curiosity and it's been a long day." Casey ordered a beer and crossed her legs under the bar.

"Long day?"

"I had court all day."

Jack leaned closer to her. "You still haven't told me what exactly you do."

Casey's eyebrows went up. "Maybe I don't like taking my work home with me. Especially when I meet a good-looking guy who seems interested."

"Who _is_ interested," Jack corrected, giving her a smile. "Which is why I want to get to know you better."

"Perhaps if I knew you better, I could let you know me better."

Jack shook his head. "You must be a great lawyer."

"I am." Casey sighed and sipped her beer. She still wasn't sure what to tell him. The last thing she wanted to do was scare him off.

Jack sensed her discomfort. It wasn't hard. She was a girl who, more often than not, showed her emotions on her sleeve. He'd only met her twice and he could already tell. "You know, it's okay." He placed a rough hand on her hand and gently squeezed. "You don't have to tell me what you do. At least, not until _after_ we have sex."

Casey choked on her beer and turned bright red. "Wh-what?" she coughed out. She risked a glance at Jack's face and narrowed her eyes at his wide grin. "Very funny," she growled.

"I thought it was." He took a sip of his own beer. "Well, if you won't tell me what you do, at least tell me something about yourself."

"Only if you promise to tell me something about yourself."

He grinned. "Okay. You go first."

Two hours and two drinks later, Casey was wiping tears of laughter from her eyes. "So you actually fell out of a window."

"No, I fell into a room from the window. And I'm lucky I lived."

"You're lucky you lived on the first floor." Her sides ached from laughing at Jack's stories. Over the past two hours, she had learned that he was from a small town in Kentucky, he loved playing basketball and baseball, and he had somehow survived his college years through some good ol' Irish luck. Casey giggled more at the pouty look on his face. "Aw, poor baby," she crooned, pinching his cheek.

A flush spread across his handsome face. "Very funny." Never before in his life had Jack enjoyed spending time with a woman so much. Casey was intelligent, funny, and an extremely empathetic listener. He'd learned she had a mean softball swing, and she hadn't hesitated to challenge him to a game. He respected a woman who wasn't afraid to assert herself.

Casey groaned when she checked her watch. "Damn," she muttered. She shot Jack an apologetic look. "Look, this has been absolutely great…"

He nodded understandingly. "You have to go to work in the morning." He placed a hand on her shoulder. "It's okay."

She gave him a grateful smile and slid off the chair. A thoughtful look crossed her face, and she snatched a napkin off the bar and scribbled something on it. "This is my cell number," she said as she handed him the napkin. "Call me sometime?"

Jack smiled and took the napkin from her. "Absolutely." He tossed a twenty on the bar and stood as well. "Can I be a gentleman and walk you out?"

"Well, it's against my feminist ideals," she mused with a grin, "But I guess it's okay."

He chuckled and ushered her out the door, placing his hand on her lower back. He felt her stiffen, then relax, under his hand, and he couldn't resist a small smile.

The air was cool when they stepped out of the bar, and Casey shivered a little bit. She couldn't tell whether it was the air or Jack's proximity to her body. But he seemed to sense it, and he quickly took off his own coat and wrapped it around her shoulders. Casey smiled at him gratefully.

"So where's this car of yours?" Jack asked, his brow furrowed in confusion.

Casey chuckled. "I never said I have a car." She motioned to her bike, still leaning against the brick wall. "I ride my bike. Saves money."

He shook his head and grinned as he walked her toward the bike. "I really enjoyed tonight, Casey," he said seriously.

She smiled. "I did too."

"Listen." Jack toed the ground nervously. "God, it's been a while since I've done this. I was wondering if… maybe tomorrow you'd be willing to go on a real date with me."

Casey cocked an eyebrow. "Real date?"

"Yeah. You know, come over to my place and I'll cook you dinner…"

"You cook?"

Jack grinned. "I make a mean lasagna."

Casey considered it for a moment, then nodded. "It's a date."

He breathed a sigh of relief. "Good." Jack looked down at her smiling face and gave her a soft smile. His blue eyes met her green ones, and it was like he was magnetically drawn to her. Jack reached up with one finger and gently brushed her cheek with his finger.

Her breath hitched, and Casey swallowed hard. She hesitantly placed one hand on his cheek and tilted her face upward. His hand moved to her waist, pulling her body toward him as his face moved toward hers. She closed her eyes and felt his lips tenderly brush hers.

Jack kept the kiss chaste and gentle, although his hormones screamed for more. Her arm snaked around his neck, pulling him closer to her, and his arms wrapped around her waist. Finally they parted, smiling softly as their eyes stayed locked.

"Wow," she whispered, her green eyes shining.

He smiled and pressed a kiss to her forehead. "Yeah," he whispered back.

"I should probably get going."

Jack nodded and reluctantly removed his hands from her waist. "Yeah." He shoved his hands into his pocket and nervously toed the ground.

Casey nodded and grabbed her helmet from the back of her bike, her lips still tingling from the kiss. "I'll see you tomorrow."

"I'll call you."

She nodded as she fastened the helmet on her head and mounted her bike. She shot him a quick smile before pedaling off down the street.

* * *

**A/N2**: Please don't shoot me... I swear all this will make sense eventually. Trust me. I have a huge twist in mind. And you have to admit... the guy's likable. Who wouldn't fall for a good-looking, funny guy? Review!


	4. Chapter 4

**A/N:** I'm back!! Vacation was great... spending some time with the cool weather in Vancouver (much better than Texas heat), sipping tea in Victoria, sightseeing... and I even started working on a sequel for this story! :D Thanks again for all the reviews. It's nice to know you're still interested in this story. I have to say, out of all the stories I've written, I think this is my favorite. And I think you'll like where I'll take the sequel. But, until then, here's the next chapter! Enjoy! Please R&R for me!

* * *

**Chapter 4**

**The McHale Company  
Upper West Side**

Olivia and Elliot pushed open a pair of double glass doors that led to the lobby of the McHale Company. The young lady at the desk smiled at them. "Welcome!" she said cheerfully. Elliot looked at Olivia and rolled his eyes. "How can I help you?"

Elliot flashed his badge at her. "Detective Stabler, Special Victims Unit. This is my partner, Detective Benson."

The receptionist's false, toothy grin disappeared when her eyes landed on the detective shield. "What can I do for you, Detective?"

"We'd like to speak to Philip Sullivan."

"I'm sorry, he's not in today."

"When will he be in?" Olivia asked.

The receptionist huffed and quickly typed something on her computer. She squinted at the computer screen. "Not until Monday."

"Is there anyone else we can talk to?" Elliot inquired.

This time she rolled her eyes. "His assistant, Mr. O'Brian, is here."

"Can you see if he can speak to us?"

She sighed and picked up the phone, her obviously-manicured nails pounding the digits on the phone with frustration. She waited for a minute as the other line rang. "Mr. O'Brian? I'm sorry to bother you… There're a couple of detectives here to talk to you… No… no, they didn't… They wanted to speak with Mr. Sullivan, but I said he wasn't here… Yes… Yes, I'll send them back." She replaced the receiver and turned to the detectives. "Through those doors, all the way to the back. Mr. O'Brian will meet you there." She pointed to another set of glass double-doors.

Elliot bit back a sarcastic remark and smiled at the woman. "Thank you."

He followed Olivia through the double doors and down the hall. It wasn't long before they spotted a tall, handsome man standing by an open door at the end of the hall.

"Mr. O'Brian?" Olivia asked as they approached him.

He nodded and smiled genuinely. "You must be the detectives Julie told me about. I'm sorry, but Mr. Sullivan isn't here today."

"Yeah, we got that part. What exactly is your job here?" Elliot asked, a growing suspicion bothering him. He got the feeling this O'Brian character wasn't what he seemed.

"I'm in charge of Mr. Sullivan's security." He swept one hand toward the open door. "Perhaps we can take this somewhere more private?"

Olivia and Elliot followed him into a spacious and comfortable office with a large window behind the mahogany desk. He motioned to a couple of chairs in front of his desk, which bore the name _Jack O'Brian_.

Elliot motioned to the window behind the desk. "That's quite a view, Mr. O'Brian. You can see quite a bit of the Upper West Side."

He grinned, his blue eyes twinkling. "I like it. Distracts me from my work." His voice held a soft Southern accent; no real twang, but enough to be noticeable in a Yankee town like Manhattan. He leaned back in his chair and interlaced his fingers. "Now, how can I help the NYPD?"

"We're investigating the murders of some of your clients," Olivia replied, leaning back in her own chair.

O'Brian's eyebrows went up. "The Callahans and the Harrises?" I heard about that. It's quite a tragedy."

"Were you aware that they each put ten thousand dollars into your company?"

He smiled. "Detective Benson, it's not unusual for relatives of Irish immigrants to put money into our company."

"What exactly does your company do?" Elliot asked.

"We help Irish families find jobs here in the Tri-state area."

"So you weren't aware that the twenty thousand dollars was put into your company off the books?"

O'Brian's blue eyes narrowed slightly. "I'm not a financial advisor, Detective Stabler. I'm not necessarily aware of the financial aspects of this organization."

"Seems a little strange to me, this big office for the head of security."

"My job includes financial protection as well as physical protection. This is Mr. Sullivan's primary company. If you check with the receptionist out front, I'm rarely here. In fact, I'm only here today because Mr. Sullivan can't be here."

"Have you ever seen this man?" Olivia handed him a picture of Connor Miller.

Elliot watched O'Brian's face carefully. He thought he saw just a flicker in the eyes, but O'Brian recovered quickly. _Impressive_, he thought.

He shook his head. "Sorry," he replied, handing the picture back to Olivia.

"He's been linked to your boss."

"And to a couple dozen murders in the last three years," Elliot added.

O'Brian shook his head again. "I'm sorry, I've never seen this guy before." He stood, apparently trying to convey that the interview was over. "If you'll excuse me, I have a lot of work to do."

Olivia glanced at Elliot, and they stood simultaneously and filed out the door. Within minutes, they were out on the busy New York street. "There's something about that guy," Olivia mused.

"You saw it, too?"

"That quick look on his face when he saw Miller's picture?" Olivia nodded. "Oh yeah. He did a good job of hiding it."

"I think we oughta take a better look at Jack O'Brian's background."

* * *

As soon as the detectives left, Jack sank into his chair and let his head fall into his hands. For the first time in three years, he had no idea how to handle this issue. There was no way that would be beneficial for him or his job. But it wasn't time to call it in yet. He was sure that he could handle the situation for at least the next couple of days. If they came back, if he had to talk with them… then he would act.

Until then, he had a date to plan with one of the most amazing women he'd ever met. The danger in what he was doing briefly crossed his mind. If he got involved with someone, he could endanger three years of hard work. Worse, he could endanger her life. He had to tell her. And he had to tell her soon.

He reached into his pocket, pulled out his cell phone, and dialed. It rang twice before a familiar voice answered, "Novak."

"Hey, it's Jack," he said, unconsciously smiling.

"Hey!" Casey sounded bright and cheery, but he distinctly heard the rustling of papers in the background.

"Did I interrupt something?"

"No, not at all." He grinned as he heard the sound of a door slamming. "Just doing some filing, that's all."

"I was wondering if you were still up for dinner tonight."

"Absolutely." He could tell she was trying to keep the excitement out of her voice. "Where and what time?"

"At my apartment on 37th. Can you break away by seven?"

He heard more rustling of paper and assumed she was looking through a day planner. "Yeah, I think so. I'm not in court today, so I can break away whenever."

"Well, in that case, can we push it up to six?" Jack grinned as she laughed.

"A bit eager, aren't we?" she asked, her voice taking on a slightly seductive tone.

"Can you blame me?"

"I guess not." Casey's voice grew soft. "I'm a little eager myself."

"Good. Six it is, then?"

She paused, and he could tell she was smiling. "Sure. What's the apartment number?"

"802 W. 37th, Apartment 8."

"Got it. And your lasagna had better live up to your bragging, sir."

He smiled again. "Be ready to be impressed, Ms. Novak. I'll see you at six."

"Bye."

The dial tone sounded in his ear, and he sighed as he flipped the phone shut. He couldn't tell her the truth. Casey Novak seemed too… upstanding. She wouldn't understand. He didn't even understand sometimes. One thing was for sure though—he couldn't keep up the charade for much longer. It was going to end soon… one way or another.

* * *

**TARU Lab  
One Police Plaza**

Elliot impatiently tapped his finger on the desk next to the computer. The TARU tech, Reuben Morales, glanced up at the obviously antsy detective. "You know, Detective," he said, a smile playing on the corner of his mouth, "The more you tap, the more I get distracted, and the slower I work."

Elliot rolled his eyes toward Olivia, who couldn't suppress her smile. "He's got a point," she said quietly.

"Funny." He leaned on the back of Morales's chair. "What did you find?"

Morales's fingers moved with lightning speed across the keyboard. Jack O'Brian's handsome face quickly appeared on the screen. "Okay, New York state driver's license, issued three years ago. Three arrests going back to 1999, no convictions."

"Where did he live before?" Olivia asked as she folded her arms across her chest.

He quickly hit a few more keys and suddenly narrowed his eyes. "Okay, this is weird."

"What?" Elliot inquired.

"There's no record of this Jack O'Brian in any other state."

"Are you sure?"

"Yeah." Morales pointed to the monitor. "I ran a search by social security number. It doesn't pop up anywhere except here in New York three years ago. Despite the convictions. That really doesn't make sense."

"What about the birth date?" Olivia asked.

"No Jack O'Brians born on that date anywhere in the U.S." Morales shook his head and glanced up at Elliot. "Look, I know I'm not a detective, but these arrests seem like they were almost made up. It seems to me like Jack O'Brian didn't exist until three years ago."

* * *

At precisely six, Jack heard a soft knock on his apartment door. He crossed the living room and opened the door. Casey stood on the other side, a bottle of wine in her hand. She grinned and held it up. "Hope you don't mind."

"Not at all." He smiled and stepped aside to let her in the apartment.

Casey's eyes swept over the tiny, but well-furnished, apartment. She nodded once in approval.

"You like it?"

She turned to see Jack standing behind her, a nervous smile on his face. "Definitely," she replied with a smile. "It's nice. Typical bachelor pad." She sniffed the air, her stomach rumbling at the smell of cooking Italian spices. "Although it doesn't exactly smell like a typical bachelor pad."

Jack returned her smile and led her to the couch in the living room. "It'll take about forty-five minutes for the lasagna to finish." He gestured to the couch. "Have a seat. I'll get us some glasses."

Casey sat on the couch with a sigh and let her eyes roam around the apartment, trying to get some details of his tastes. Landscape photos hung in strategic places around the room, including over the medium-sized television sitting on a black entertainment center across from the couch. She squinted slightly to read his DVD tastes. _The Patriot, We Were Soldiers, Austin Powers_… She almost snickered at the surprising array of chick flicks sitting discreetly to one corner.

"Something funny?"

Jack's voice startled her slightly, and she looked up to see him standing in the doorway to his kitchen, two wineglasses and a corkscrew in hand. "You don't exactly strike me as a '_Music and Lyrics_' or _'Princess Bride'_ type of guy," she said with a grin.

"I'm a hopeless romantic," he said sheepishly as he stepped over her and sat down next to her on the couch. He quickly uncorked the bottle and poured the deep red liquid into the glasses. He handed one to Casey and softly clinked their glasses together. "To new beginnings," he said with a smile.

Casey smiled back and sipped her wine. Her mind whirled. It had been so long since she'd been on a real date… alone, in a man's apartment. She glanced at Jack and felt a little better when she saw his nervous posture. Finally he turned to look at her, and the desire she saw in his blue eyes made her breath hitch. "What?" she asked, her voice sounding more like a croak.

"I'm having a hell of a time keeping my hands off you, Counselor," he said huskily.

His honesty caught her off guard, and she inhaled sharply. "Well," she said, clearing her throat. "I might have a remedy for you." With that, she leaned in and brushed her lips against his.

Jack took her cue and wrapped his arms around her waist, pulling her flush against his body, deepening the kiss. Her fingers played with his dark hair and her tongue skimmed his bottom lip, begging for entrance. His lips willingly parted, and her tongue darted in, tangling with his own. His hands had a mind of their own, and he entangled his own fingers in her red hair.

Casey groaned as he shifted his weight so that she rested her head on the armrest and he hovered over her. She groaned again when he pulled his lips back and attacked her neck. "Maybe we should wait until after dinner," she said breathlessly, biting back another moan as he nipped at her throat.

"Maybe I like dessert first," he whispered with a grin.

She grabbed his head and recaptured his lips with hers. Suddenly a knock sounded at the door, and it was Jack's turn to groan. "Who the hell could that be?" he muttered as he sat up.

She gave him an apologetic look and sat up too. "You should probably get that." A slow grin crossed her face as he stumbled toward the door, mumbling curses the whole way.

His expression changed from annoyance to shock as he opened the door. Elliot and Olivia stood in the hall, their arms crossed. "Detectives," he said, finally finding his voice.

"Mr. O'Brian, we'd like to have a talk with you down at the precinct," Elliot said.

"Can it wait?"

Olivia shook her head. "Sorry, but you'll have to come with us." Her eyes suddenly caught a very familiar, very shocked face in the living room. "Casey?" she asked, surprised.

"Is there anything wrong?" Casey asked, jumping to her feet.

"Wait, you know each other?" Jack asked.

"Ms. Novak is our ADA," Elliot answered. "How do you know each other?"

Olivia's eyes widened as the answer dawned on her. "Is this the bar guy? This is that Jack?"

Casey nodded and folded her arms, her face all business. "Why are you taking him to the precinct?"

Elliot looked back and forth between Casey and Jack. "We want to talk with him in connection to the Callahan murders."

She trained her green eyes on Jack, who looked at his feet guiltily. "You know something about the Callahan murders?"

He said nothing.

She nodded and bit back the tears that threatened to well up in her eyes. "Fine."

Elliot placed his hand on Jack's shoulder. "Let's go," he whispered.

After they disappeared around the corner, Olivia slowly moved toward Casey, who still stood in front of the couch. "Casey, are you okay?" she asked, concerned.

"I'm fine," she returned, willing herself to not break down and cry. "Let's just go."


	5. Chapter 5

**A/N: **Thank you so much to everyone who reviewed the last chapter! It's so weird being back in Texas... too hot! So as an Independence Day present, here's the next chapter. Everything will be revealed in this one. And yes, I am still working on the sequel to this one. This chapter is dedicated to all those brave men and women who fight for our freedom, past and present. Happy Independence Day!

* * *

**Chapter 5**

**Interrogation Room 1  
Precinct 16**

Elliot turned one of the chairs in the room around and straddled it, lowering his bulk into the chair to rest his arms on the back. "O'Brian, I hope for your sake you didn't hurt Casey."

Jack fixed his blue eyes on Elliot's. "I wouldn't hurt her," he whispered.

"You lied to her. You lied to us. We looked you up in our database. There's absolutely no record of a Jack O'Brian anywhere until three years ago. Care to explain that?"

He turned his blue eyes toward the metal table. "I'd like to make my phone call."

"Listen man, you can, but if you don't talk to us now, we can't help you. We know you know Connor Miller. And if we have to arrest you for obstruction of justice, we will."

"I wanna make a phone call."

Elliot sighed and motioned for Jack to stand up. "Let's go." He led Jack through the door to where Captain Cragen, Olivia, and Casey stood watching in the observation room. Casey refused to even look at him as he passed.

Five minutes later, Jack and Elliot returned to the interrogation room and to their respective places on either side of the metal table in the center of the room. "So," Elliot began. "Let me start with what I know."

Jack said nothing.

"You work for Philip Sullivan, who's under suspicion for racketeering and other sordid crimes. You obviously know Connor Miller. The guy that murdered at least two families that we know of. Two kids, that we know of. Did Sullivan order the hit?"

Silence.

"Okay." Elliot pulled out some photos. "If you're not involved, you at least have some knowledge of these crimes. You know what that makes you? An accessory to murder, to start with."

A knock on the mirror stopped Elliot cold, and he quickly got up and went out the door. Cragen, Casey, and the rest of the squad stared at a tall man in a black suit standing by the door. "What's up?" he asked, confused.

"Elliot, this is Agent Andrew Russell," Munch said, motioning to the man in the suit. "He's with the FBI. He gave us those lists on Sullivan."

"Why is the FBI interested in O'Brian?" Elliot asked.

"He called me," Russell said simply.

"Why would O'Brian call you?" Casey asked, her arms folded in front of her.

"Why don't you let me talk to him first?" Russell replied with a smile.

Cragen nodded and motioned for Elliot to step aside so that Russell could enter the interrogation room. The entire squad watched as Russell and O'Brian talked animatedly.

"I can't believe it," Casey said so only Olivia could hear.

"Casey, he fooled you. He was good-looking, charming…"

"That's not it, Liv." Casey turned to look at Olivia, but a knock at the window interrupted her.

"Are you coming, Casey?" She turned to see Elliot standing by the door, waiting for her to make a move.

She sighed and moved toward the door. Elliot held it open for her and filed into the room after her. "I think you'd better explain yourself, Agent Russell," Casey said as Elliot pulled up a chair for her, a hostility creeping into her voice that startled even her.

Russell leaned back in his chair. "Jack is one of ours," he said.

Elliot's jaw hit the floor, and Casey's eyes widened. "What?"

Jack leaned forward. "My name isn't Jack O'Brian. It's Jack Calhoun."

"Jack Calhoun?" Elliot asked incredulously.

"I've been deep undercover for the past three years trying to build a RICO case on Sullivan and his cronies." He caught Casey's eye and tried to hold it. "I would have told you if I could have."

"How do we know he's telling the truth?" Elliot challenged.

"Call headquarters in Washington," Russell answered. "Jack's a decorated agent. I can provide you with the full case file when the trial starts. No surprises." Russell tossed a black I.D. holder onto the table. "This should hold you over until then."

Casey reached out and opened the wallet. Sure enough, the card had the name _Jack Calhoun, FBI_ emblazoned on it with a picture of the man sitting across from her and a badge on the other side. "It's real," she whispered.

"What exactly is the McHale Company?" Elliot asked, sneaking a glance at Casey's shocked face.

Jack sighed. "It's a pyramid scheme. People put the cash into the company, and Sullivan funnels some of it to the IRA and keeps the rest himself. The families are left out in the cold. The Callahans figured it out and were going to go to the cops unless Sullivan paid them their share plus ten percent interest."

"And Miller?" Elliot asked, keeping his eyes fixed on Jack.

"Miller came down from Boston to take care of them."

Russell leaned forward in his seat. "Jack can give you his location, but he won't testify."

"There's no way to get a conviction without his testimony," Casey said icily.

"There's no way he'll live if he testifies," Russell argued.

"No!" Jack held up a hand, effectively cutting Russell off. "I'm testifying." He turned to face Russell, who shook his head in warning. "Sullivan'll kill me anyway for even talking to the cops. And he's been uncertain about me since I questioned the hit on the Callahans." Jack turned to face Elliot and Casey. "Miller told me he did it. And I know his location."

Elliot shoved a piece of paper and a pen toward him. "Write it down."

Jack scribbled an address on the paper and pushed it back toward Elliot. He silently picked it up and walked out the door, leaving Casey to stare at Jack dumbfounded.

Russell stood and clapped Jack on the back. "Let's go, Calhoun," he said quietly.

He shook his head, his eyes never leaving Casey. "I'd like to talk to ADA Novak alone."

"Jack, we've got to get you into cust—" Jack interrupted him with a glare. Russell held up his hands in surrender. "Okay, fine. I'll be waiting outside." He quietly left the room, closing the door behind him with a resounding bang.

Jack reached his hands across the table to take hold of Casey's, but she flinched and pulled away. He sighed resignedly. "Casey, I would have told you if I could. I couldn't risk it."

She bit her lip and allowed her eyes to finally meet Jack's. "I know," she whispered. "I understand that."

"You've got to believe I wanted to tell you everything."

"I wasn't exactly forthcoming about my profession either, was I?"

That got a smile out of him. "No, you weren't."

"Was any of it real?"

Jack sat back in his chair, startled. "What?"

Casey stood up and turned around to face the one-way mirror. "Was anything you told me real? All the stuff about growing up in Kentucky and playing ball and those stories from college?"

"Yes," he answered, slightly confused.

"Then the only thing you lied to me about was your name and profession? Or did you lie about your feelings for me too?"

Jack pushed back his chair and stood up, watching Casey's reflection in the glass. Was it just him, or was there a tear glistening on her cheek. "I never lied about my feelings for you," he said quietly. "Casey, I was going to call Russell tomorrow and tell him I was going to the cops with everything. I couldn't tell you tonight because I had to make sure they were going to provide me with protection."

"And the Callahan murders?" She whipped around to face him, eyes brimming with moisture.

"I swear I had nothing to do with them." He slowly started to walk toward her, fully expecting her to sucker-punch him in the face. God knew he deserved it. "Casey, I knew about them, but I swear I didn't do anything. I couldn't do anything." He sighed again. "God, I screwed up."

Casey couldn't resist a chuckle. "Yeah, you did."

He smiled at her. "At least we agree on something." He reached for her cheek, to wipe away the tear, but she moved her head away and slowly shook it. "I know you can't forgive me now. But I'm going to testify, in open court, to prove to you that I am not that guy that lied to you. And I'll never lie to you again. I care too much about you."

Finally she looked up, taking in his remorseful expression. "I've got a trial to prepare for," she said softly.

Jack nodded, shoving his hands in his pockets. Casey couldn't hold back a laugh. "What?" he asked, confused again.

"You always put your hands in your pockets when you're nervous," she replied, giving him a small smile. "It's endearing."

A wide grin broke across his face. "Does this mean I'm forgiven?" he asked.

Her smile disappeared. "We'll see. After the trial."

He nodded again. "Fair enough." Jack moved toward the door and hesitated, his hand on the doorknob. He turned his head to look at the back of Casey's head. "You know why I was going to call it off?" He paused, waiting for a response, but Casey didn't even turn around. Finally, he whispered, "Because I was falling for you."

* * *

**1897 W. Broad St  
Queens, NY**

Elliot, Olivia, and a dozen armed officers swarmed the tiny abandoned warehouse. Elliot held up his hand and whispered loudly, "One, two, three!"

On three, the closest officer kicked the door in, and it flew off its hinges into the room. Elliot rushed into the room, Olivia on his heels, and shouted, "NYPD!"

Olivia glanced around and saw a shadow dart toward a door on the other side of the room. "Miller! Police!"

Elliot dashed past her and out the door behind them. A couple hundred yards ahead, he spotted Miller sprinting toward another building nearby. "NYPD!" he shouted again. "Freeze!" Behind him, he heard a car roar to life and peel out away from him. He willed his powerful legs to keep moving, and he quickly gained on his subject.

Miller glanced back and picked up speed. But Elliot was too fast for him, despite Miller's larger size. He let out a loud _oof_ as Elliot jumped forward and tackled him, tumbling the two of them to the pavement. Miller brought his fist forward in a powerful roundhouse, but once again, Elliot was too quick. As Olivia screeched to a halt next to them, Elliot blocked the punch with his right arm and socked him hard in the gut with his left. Miller doubled over, gasping for breath.

Breathing hard, Elliot dragged Miller up by his shirt as Olivia approached them with gun drawn. "Connor Miller," he panted, roughly turning him around so his back was facing Olivia. "You're under arrest for rape and murder." With that, he slapped the cuffs on Miller's wrists.

"Detectives!" A uniformed cop ran up to them, holding a large plastic evidence bag. "This was under the mattress in the warehouse."

Olivia took the bag from the cop and held it up in front of Miller's face. "Oh, look at that," she said. "A six-inch serrated blade. Same as the murder weapon."

"Never seen it before in me life," Miller said softly.

"Yeah? And how much you wanna bet we'll find your fingerprints all over it? Wonder if you'll be singin' a different tune." Elliot shoved him toward a couple of uniformed officers. "Get him outta here."

Olivia placed her hand on her partner's heaving back. "You okay?" she asked quietly.

He nodded and bent over at the waist, putting his hands on his knees. "Yeah. You know, he was right where Calhoun said he'd be."

Olivia looked at him sharply. "Are you ready to forgive him that easily for hurting Casey?"

He shrugged. "It's not like he had a choice. You've been undercover, you know how it goes. Besides, forgiveness is Casey's choice." He looked at his partner pointedly. "Not ours."


	6. Chapter 6

**A/N:** Thanks so much to all of you who have stuck with this story. Clarissa, to answer your question, there's one more chapter after this one. Let me know if I get too sappy in this chapter... I'm a hopeless romantic and I have a bad habit of doing that. As always, give me some feedback at the end! Special virtual cookies to whoever can name the movie referenced at the end of the chapter!

* * *

**Chapter 6**

**Three Weeks Later**

Casey sighed as she slid into yet another bar stool at yet another bar. She hadn't been back to Mulroney's since her entire life and heart had blown up in her face. Over the past three weeks, she threw herself into her work, trying to forget the pain she felt every time she saw Jack to prepare him for trial. Munch had joked that she was more efficient now than ever before—a comment that earned him a very sound slap on the back of the head from Olivia.

As hard as she'd tried, she couldn't erase Jack from her memory. The memory of his kiss left her lips tingling as if she'd just kissed him. As hard as she tried to deny it, she couldn't ignore it anymore. Casey Novak had fallen in love with him.

Her peripheral vision caught a large, muscular shape approach her from her left side. As the bartender handed her a beer, she glanced up to see Elliot slide into the seat next to her. "Counselor," he greeted her with a smile. The bartender came over and he ordered a beer. He turned in his chair just a little bit so that he faced her. "Drowning your sorrows in alcohol?"

She snorted. "Is it that obvious?"

"Jack testifies tomorrow, right?" Elliot glanced down into the glass of amber liquid that the bartender slid him. "You know, we've been kinda concerned about you lately. Liv and me."

Casey looked at him sharply. "I'm perfectly fine, Detective."

"You'll excuse me if I don't believe you, Casey. You've been working your ass off, more than usual, and you won't talk to anyone about it."

"That's because there's nothing to talk about, El."

"I don't believe that either." Elliot paused, trying to make the words in his head come out right. "I know how to read people, Case. I saw the way you looked at him at the precinct. I saw the way he looked at you."

Casey sighed again, but said nothing.

"You fell in love with him, didn't you?"

She shook her head, the tears threatening to well up in her eyes again. She'd cried enough in the last three weeks, in the privacy of her own home or office, and she wasn't about to cry in front of Elliot.

"Look, I know how you feel. Your heart's broken into a million pieces, you can't see how you'll move on. You can deny it all you want, Casey, but—"

"You're right, Elliot," she whispered. She laughed, more to choke back a sob than from mirth. "I feel like such an idiot."

"Why?" Elliot looked at her, his eyes narrowing slightly. "Casey, you can't blame yourself for what happened. You don't choose who you fall in love with."

She shook her head again, tendrils of red hair falling into her face. "Oh, but I can blame myself. I fell for his charm and good looks, and he turned out to be nothing but a liar."

Elliot scratched the back of his head and leaned toward her. "You know, there's a song that seems to talk about this. _'Is it in his eyes? Oh, no that's not the way…_"

Casey chuckled and played with the edge of her glass. "_'If you wanna know if he loves you so, it's in his kiss_'."

He smiled and gently patted her on the back. "Only you can answer that, Casey. But if you want my opinion, I saw the way he looked at you. In his apartment, in interrogation. You can't fake that, Casey, despite what the song says. Especially for someone who's had a lot of practice in reading people."

She took another sip of her beer but didn't look at Elliot. "You know, he told me he was going to call off his undercover assignment that morning." She sighed and looked up at the ceiling. "He said it was… was because he was falling for me."

Elliot put his arm on the back of her chair and leaned toward her. "I believe him, Casey. He might have lied about his profession and his name, but he'd be a fool to lie about his feelings for you." Elliot took a long swig from his beer and stood. "And a fool doesn't survive three years undercover in the Irish mob."

* * *

**Trial Part 46**

"Please state your name and occupation, for the record." Casey turned on her heel to face the witness stand.

"Jack Calhoun, Special Agent with the FBI." Jack leaned forward a little in the chair and watched Casey perform for the jury.

"Have you gone under any other aliases?"

He shifted his weight slightly. "Yes. I've had the name Jack O'Brian for the last three years."

"And why is that?" Casey turned toward the jury, trying to gauge their reactions to him.

"I was deep undercover."

"Doing what?"

"Gathering information to build a case against Philip Sullivan for racketeering and other charges. While I was undercover, I worked security for Mr. Sullivan. Basically I was his assistant. Whenever he was out of town, I would take care of his business affairs."

"Was one of these business ventures called the McHale Company?"

"Yes."

"What is the McHale Company?"

"They advertise help for Irish immigrants and Irish-Americans in getting job help. In reality, Sullivan takes their cash and puts a certain percentage into getting weapons for the Irish Republican Army and keeps a certain percentage for his own business ventures."

Now Casey turned to face the table on the other side of the room, where Connor Miller was shooting Jack daggers with his eyes and shaking with rage. "How do you know Connor Miller?"

"Mr. Miller worked for Philip Sullivan. He joined about six months after Mr. Sullivan hired me on. He worked primarily in Boston until he came to New York about a week before the murders took place."

"And what was Mr. Miller's job?"

"He was an enforcer."

Casey whipped around to face him. "And what does that entail?"

Jack inhaled deeply. "He would take care of any liabilities in the outfit."

"How exactly did he do that?"

A small smile played on the corner of Jack's mouth. "He would kill them."

"Were the Callahans and the Harrises liabilities?"

"Yes. They discovered where their cash was really going and demanded it back, plus a hefty interest fee. Sullivan wasn't too happy with it, and I heard him tell Miller to take care of it."

"And what did 'take care of it' usually mean?"

"He meant to eliminate them. To kill them. Because they were liabilities."

"Objection!" The defense attorney leapt to his feet. "The witness can't possibly know the intent of what was said."

Casey was ready for this one. "Your Honor, Agent Calhoun had intimate knowledge of the inner workings of this operation. Surely he would know the intent of a direct order, since the defendant obviously did."

The judge nodded his head. "I agree. Overruled."

"When was this?" Casey asked, turning back toward Jack.

Jack inhaled and exhaled again, avoiding eye contact with Miller. "The afternoon of their murder."

"And they were dead by six that evening. Did you see Mr. Miller again that night?"

"Yes. At around nine that night. We set up a time and a place where he would meet me after the job was done. We met at Mulroney's Bar on W. 37th Street, and he confirmed he had done the deed."

Suddenly Miller jumped to his feet and lunged at Jack. "You son of a bitch!" he shouted as the bailiffs tried to restrain him. "I'll get you for this! You're dead, you son of a bitch!"

The judge pounded his gavel. "Order!" he yelled as the bailiffs wrapped their arms around Miller's chest. "Get him out of here!" He hit the gavel again as they dragged Miller out, still spewing threats. "We're in recess until tomorrow morning."

Casey looked toward the witness stand just in time to see Jack ushered out by two U.S. marshals. He glanced back toward her, and her eyes met his. They stared at each other for what seemed like ages, until Jack disappeared through the side door.

She sighed and turned toward her table to gather her things. At least the case was a slam dunk. After seeing Miller's outburst, hearing Jack's testimony, and seeing the evidence from the murder scene, there was no way they wouldn't convict.

And yet, there was a bitter-sweetness to it, because despite all the pain she'd been through, she knew would never see Jack again. And it sucked.

A tap on her shoulder startled her, and she jumped a few feet in the air before whipping around to see a bailiff standing behind her, a smirk on his face. "I'm sorry, ma'am, but I need to give you this." He handed her a folded slip of paper.

"Thanks," she replied and unfolded the paper. As she scanned the familiar handwriting, she felt that overwhelming urge to cry. Swiftly wiping a stray tear from her eye, she stuffed the paper in her pocket, grabbed her briefcase, and dashed out the door to her car.

* * *

**Best Western Hotel  
Brooklyn, NY**

Jack stared out the window of his hotel room, watching the people on the sidewalk go about their daily lives. It was strange, thinking he would soon be leaving all this behind. Over the past three years, he had grown to love the city. And now, he had no idea where he would be living. That was up to the marshals standing outside his door.

A soft knock sounded on his door, and he crossed the room in a matter of seconds. He yanked open the door to reveal none other than Casey Novak standing in the hall. His eyes widened, and neither said anything for a few minutes. They just stood in the hall, staring at each other. Finally, Jack cleared his throat. "I didn't expect you to come," he forced out.

Casey gave him a wan smile. "Can I come in?"

"Sure." Jack stepped aside to let her into the room and shut the door behind her. She stood in the center of the room, arms crossed in front of her chest. Jack leaned against the door and stared as an awkward silence settled between them.

She was the first one to break the silence. "Good job in court today," she said, setting her briefcase down on the floor. "Miller's attorney called me on the way over. He wants to plead out. I told him I would accept twenty-five to life, and he accepted. But there's no way a guy like Miller will get paroled."

"Good," Jack nodded. He inhaled deeply, trying to muster up a little courage. This had never happened to him before. No woman had ever made him like this. "I guess you got my note," he said softly.

Casey nodded and swallowed hard. "I guess you know that's really why I'm here." She pushed a strand of hair out of her eyes as Jack nodded. "Did you mean what you said? About how even liars and fools deserve second chances?"

He nodded again.

"I'm not completely sure I'm inclined to believe that."

Jack unfolded his arms and stood up straight. "I know, and I can't blame you for it." Casey opened her mouth to say something, but he held out his hand to stop her. "Just hear me out. You have every right to be mad at me. But this…" he waved his hand around the room. "My testifying was all for you. To prove to you that I'm not the man that would just lie to you for no reason.

"Everything I told you in the bar that night, about my childhood and my past and my family, was all true. Even the part about falling through my window my freshman year of college. The only thing I ever lied to you about was my profession and my name. If you can't forgive me for it, then I understand, because a relationship is built on trust."

The tears threatened to well up in Casey's eyes again, and Jack noticed. He moved off the door and slowly started to walk toward her.

"But, if you can find it in your heart to forgive me, and if there's even an ounce of affection for me, and if you think you can trust me again…" Now he was standing just a few inches from her. She took a deep breath, and the smell of his cologne nearly made her go weak at the knees. He gently lifted her chin with his forefinger so that green met blue once again. "I would very much like to know what it would be like to spend just one night with you while I still can. Because, Casey Novak," he gently took her hand with his other hand, "you have bewitched me, body and soul, and I love you. From the moment I saw you, I loved you."

Casey felt a single tear slide down her cheek, and she took another deep breath. She looked up at him, a smile spreading across her face. "That's not fair," she whispered.

He raised an eyebrow. "What's not fair?"

"Using that line from _Pride and Prejudice_. That's my favorite chick flick."

Jack grinned. "Does this mean I'm forgiven?"

She reached up with one hand and grabbed his neck, pulling him down to her, capturing his lips with her own. She smiled into the kiss when she felt his hands settle on her hips, and she reached up with her other hand to bury her fingers in his hair. Jack skimmed his tongue along her lips and nipped at her bottom lip, and it was his turn to smile as she granted him entrance. His tongue probed her mouth, and she moaned when his fingers brushed the skin under her shirt.

Suddenly Jack lifted her off her feet, and she pulled back to squeal in surprise and delight. He grinned mischievously at her, and she laughed heartily as she wrapped her long legs around his waist. Casey smiled at him and brushed a short strand of dark hair from his face. "I love you, too," she whispered before crushing her lips to his again.

He walked them toward the bed, their lips still fused together, and gently laid her on the cover. With trembling fingers, Casey reached down and grasped the bottom of his t-shirt. Jack broke the kiss long enough for her to pull the shirt over his head, hissing as her fingers brushed his bare skin. His lips moved to her neck, and her hum of delight reverberated through his body. Casey ran her nails across his well-formed abs and smiled when they tightened under her fingers. "Good Lord, woman," he growled against her skin.

"No talking," she whispered, putting one finger on his kiss-swollen lips. Just the sound of his voice sent shivers through her body.

Casey's breath hitched as he reached for the top button of her blouse. "As you wish," he whispered, deftly sliding the button from its hole and revealing more of her cleavage.

She chuckled. "There you go again with obscure movie quotes."

"Shh." Jack unbuttoned the rest of her shirt, kissing and nipping his way down her chest, and slid it off her shoulders. His fingers brushed against the sensitive skin on her waist, eliciting a moan from her. "No talking."

But it was his turn to moan as she reached for the zipper of his jeans, and he slid his hands under her to get the zipper of her skirt. Casey lifted her hips, allowing him to slowly slide her skirt off her body, and then she sat up to push his jeans down, kissing her way down his chest and legs.

She lay back on the bed, in just her bra and panties, and looked up at him. Her eyes widened in surprise when he took a step back, clad in just his boxers, and just stared at her. For a second, she thought he wanted to stop. "What?" she asked, her chest tightening in fear.

Jack just shook his head and smiled. "You are so beautiful," he whispered.

She smiled tearfully and grabbed his hand. "Come're." She yanked him down on top of her.

As the red and orange streams of the setting sun entered the room through the crack in the curtains, the two of them communicated their feelings in the most intimate way on the face of the earth.


	7. Chapter 7

**A/N:** So... last chapter for this story! But certainly not the end of the romance! Be sure to check out the sequel, titled **"Time to Say Goodbye."** I should be posting the first chapter in a couple of days. And (insert shameless plug), it's much more suspenseful than this one. I think ya'll will like it. At least, I hope you do.

Thank you so much for all your kind reviews, especially Clarissa, CNovak929, and captain-distracto for never failing to review. I appreciate you guys so much!

* * *

**Chapter 7**

Casey snuggled closer to Jack's chest as the first lights of dawn shone through the curtains of his hotel room. His remarkably muscled chest rose and fell in time with his rhythmic breathing. She wrapped her arms tighter around his waist, suddenly cold, and she let her head fall onto his naked chest. The air in the hotel room was cold, but her sudden shiver didn't surprise her-- they'd generated enough heat through the night that she wasn't used to the chill of the hotel room. A smile spread across her face when she remembered the four times they'd made love. It had, without a doubt, been the most incredible night of her life.

Her smile faded when she remembered that he'd have to leave. She wouldn't see him again. Honestly, she didn't know why she was doing this to herself—falling for a man that was basically untouchable.

Jack stirred suddenly, and Casey looked up at him. His eyes slowly opened, heavy from sleep, and a groggy smile spread across his face when he saw her. "Good morning," he whispered.

"Good morning," she returned, tilting up her face to softly kiss his lips. His fingers raised goosebumps on her flesh as they brushed against her bare back.

"You're awake early," he said as he glanced at the digital clock on the nightstand.

"Couldn't sleep."

"Oh, so I didn't wear you out enough last night?"

Casey laughed at the twinkle in his blue eyes. "Thanks to you, I won't be able to walk for a week." Jack snickered. "I was just thinking."

He moved his arm slightly, drawing her even closer to his chest. "About what?"

She sighed, not wanting to ruin the few hours they had left together. He nudged her, growing concerned. "About," she searched her brain for the right words to say. "About how you have to leave today. And how last night was the best night I've had in the longest time." She looked up at him, into his eyes, and she couldn't stop the moisture from reappearing in her own eyes. "And about how I've fallen in love with a man I'll never see again."

Jack wrapped his other arm around her in a tight embrace. Her tears fell on his skin, and he felt a tightening in his chest. "Listen to me, Casey Novak," he said as gently and firmly as he could. He put a finger under her chin and tipped her head up. "I love you. And we will figure out something."

"A long distance relationship where you can't contact anyone from your old life?"

He grinned. "Casey, I survived three years undercover in the mob. I'm resourceful." His face grew serious. "Do you trust me?"

Casey bit her lip thoughtfully. After the night they'd spent together? She smiled and nodded. "Absolutely," she whispered.

Jack smiled and pressed a kiss into her hair. "Good. Because I couldn't bear it if you got hurt because of me."

She glanced toward the clock and then looked up at him, an impish smile playing at the corners of her mouth. "You know, we've got about an hour before you have to be at the airport."

"True. But I thought you said you weren't gonna be able to walk for a week already."

"Good thing my job has me sitting down a lot, right?"

Jack chuckled and kissed her deeply. She let out a hearty laugh as he moved his arm from under her and rolled on top of her, and he smiled at her before he kissed her again.

* * *

**Flushing Airport**

"Where is he?" Elliot paced impatiently in front of the small private plane that was already swarming with U.S. marshals.

"They'll show." Olivia crossed her arm and watched her partner, amused.

"Casey said they'd be here twenty minutes ago."

"They probably got tied up."

"Doing what?"

Olivia shot her partner a look, and he flushed a little.

"Oh."

"Hey!" A familiar voice behind them caused them to turn around. Olivia couldn't suppress a smile when she spotted Casey and Jack walking toward them, fingers interlaced. "Sorry we're late," Casey said apologetically as they stopped next to Olivia. "We got a little… um…"

"No explanations necessary," Elliot said quickly.

Olivia leaned toward Casey and whispered, "Don't listen to him. I'd better hear every single detail." Casey flushed and suppressed a snort.

Jack stuck out his free hand toward Elliot. "Listen, I hope there're no hard feelings from before."

Elliot shook his head and clasped the proffered hand. "Forgiveness is Casey's prerogative, and I guess she forgave you." He grew serious. "But if you hurt her, you'll have a hell of a time running from me." He grimaced as Casey slapped his shoulder.

Jack shook his head and grinned. "Don't worry. There's no way in hell I'd hurt her."

Olivia smiled. "I believe you."

"Hey, Calhoun!" A marshal stuck his head out the plane's door. "We gotta get moving!"

Jack sighed and ran his hand through his hair. "Okay!" he called back. He turned to look at Casey, who was biting her lip to keep from crying.

Olivia nudged Elliot. "Let's give them some privacy," she whispered. They moved a few yards away.

Casey cleared her throat. "I guess you really have to leave."

Jack nodded. "Yeah." He reached out and ran his fingers through her hair. "I wish I didn't have to."

"Me too," she whispered.

He leaned in and pressed his lips to hers. His arms wrapped around her waist and pulled her close, and her hands settled on his biceps. The kiss was slow and heated, with just as much passion as the previous night but with all the love they could muster in just a few moments. Finally they pulled apart, breathing hard. Jack rested his forehead against hers and sighed.

"Hey lover boy!" The same marshal stuck his head out of the plane again. "Get your ass over here!"

"Shut up!" Jack yelled back. He smiled at Casey again. "I really should get going."

"Yeah." She reached up and wrapped her arms around his neck, allowing herself to relax into his strong embrace. He put one hand on the back of her head and tenderly stroked her hair.

"I'll call you," he whispered in her ear, and she laughed. He pulled back a little and grasped her hands. "As soon as I get wherever I'm going."

Casey shook her head and smiled. "You shouldn't."

"You think thugs with guns scare me?" Jack raised an eyebrow. He leaned in and pecked her on the lips. "'Death cannot stop true love. All it can do is delay it for a while.'"

She shook her head and smiled despite herself. "You weren't kidding when you said you were a hopeless romantic. Only a hopeless romantic would quote _The Princess Bride_ like that."

Jack smiled and brushed her cheek with his fingertips. "I love you."

"I love you too." She tilted her head and quickly kissed him again. "I'll see you again soon."

Jack smiled. "'What lies behind us and what lies before us are small matters compared to what lies within us.'" He looked up at Elliot and Olivia, giving them a look that said, _Keep her safe._ Elliot nodded and smiled at him, and Jack returned the smile. He moved his hand off her waist and grasped her hand, holding it as he moved toward the plane, letting go at the last possible moment.

She sighed as she watched him walk across the tarmac and walk up the steps to the plane. On the last step, he turned and waved at her. She swallowed hard and waved back. Then he disappeared into the plane.

Casey sighed again as the plane revved its engine and turned toward the west to take off. She hated this. Just when she'd finally gotten past Charlie and found a great guy, he had to go into witness protection to stay safe. But in the back of her mind, she knew he was leaving for her sake too. And somehow, she knew she'd be seeing him again.

Suddenly Casey was conscious of two people coming up on either side of her. "You okay?" Olivia's voice registered in her brain as the older woman slipped her arm around her shoulders.

Casey nodded and gave her a half-smile. "I will be," she murmured.

Elliot comfortingly patted her on the back. "It'll take some time."

"Something tells me I'll be seeing him sooner than I think."

Olivia looked at her in surprise. "What makes you say that?"

"I somehow doubt that Jack Calhoun has ever been much of a rule follower."

Elliot chuckled and put his hand on Casey's back. "I'm impressed with him. Not every guy can quote Emerson and _The Princess Bride _in the same conversation." He grinned at Casey's laugh. It was good to hear her laugh again. "You up for a drink?" he asked as the two detectives walked with her back to the car.

"Of course. I know this great little Irish pub on 34th Street. You guys interested?"

Olivia smiled. "Absolutely." Suddenly she looked up at Elliot. "Since when do you know Emerson?"

_**Fin.**_


End file.
